StarCraft: The World Game
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: It was once said that soccer was the world game. In the 26th century, with humanity spread over numerous worlds, and its two branches separated by 60,000 light years, whether that statement remained true was dubious.


**The World Game**

She felt naked without her armour.

She knew that many of the marines here would actually prefer her to be naked, judging by the cat calls that had followed her as she walked through the camp. They either didn't know or care that she was a lieutenant, and that if she wanted to, she could send them into a black hole to either be crushed to death, or fry from the radiation. Plus, if by some miracle they survived, they'd emerge to see a universe that was bereft of life through unnatural means, or a universe that was bereft of life through natural means. One way or another, the universe was headed for heat death and mass extinction, but whether that happened sooner or later was something that the denizens had to decide for themselves, provided that Amon let them.

Which she doubted, to be honest. She also doubted any alien's ability to eradicate life from the universe, but she wasn't going to get into the logistics of that. When she'd first come to this sector six years ago, the most insane thing she had to worry about was a giant tentacle monster that appeared to come from the works of T.P. Bunnerong (or maybe further back –Love-someone may have come up with the idea first). When she'd delivered the neuro-blockers to the beast, slightly less insane things she had to worry about were the same types of monsters she'd encountered on Bel'Shir. Now, forever cut off from Earth, helping the government she'd once helped overthrow, all Rosa Morales could do was stop walking and collapse onto the grass, closing her eyes. Letting the wind blow over her skin, her hair, and her jumpsuit.

Because no armour. No more bodies. She'd done her part, she'd saved the wounded, and eased the passing of the dying. The zerg here had been defeated. Doctor Egon Stetmann had been saved (hopefully). Day or so at the most, she'd either be off to a new hellhole, or remain here as part of the Dominion's garrison. Terrazine was a valuable resource, even more so for Amon's forces. Bel'Shir itself was just a blip in the darkness of space, but given the gas that came out of that blip…something about smelling funny. She was too tired to think of a joke that involved gas. Especially when-

"Ow!"

She sprung up less than a second after the projectile hit her. She reached for her pistol but it remained in its holster. Because given what he projectile was, she doubted that she'd need a firearm to protect herself. Maybe use it on the asshole who'd thrown the projectile at her, but-

"Sorry."

No, scratch that. She wouldn't be shooting Commander James Raynor today for hitting her in the face with a soccer ball (or football if you were a classist, or goal-ball if you were still living in the 24th century and thought that battle ball was a thing anymore). Maybe someday, if the UED returned to the sector, and she threw in her lot with her old government, she would shoot James Raynor, or at least shoot at him, or maybe shoot at the terrans that called the Koprulu sector home. Maybe not, and she'd be executed for treason, for throwing her lot in with a "rogue regime." But, that was a lot of "maybes." All she could do now was stand up straight, salute, and-

"Oh relax, you're not on duty."

And drop the salute, stand as still as a statue, and watch as Raynor walked over to the soccer ball, pick it up, and hold it in his hands.

"Think I know you…" he said.

 _Oh Christ._

She didn't want this. She had no idea how to act around the commander. He commanded by leading, nor ordering, as the saying went. The type of person who was either in his jet-black CMC suit, or outside it, in which case he still looked like some kind of space cowboy. This was the man who'd once been her enemy – granted, many men and women had once been her enemies when she'd come to this part of space over half a decade ago, but how many of them were left? Edmund Duke? Dead. Horace Warfield? Dead. Arcturus Mengsk? Despite all his efforts, dead. Raynor had been the one to help destroy the psi disrupter, Raynor had been there on Korhal, preventing UED garrisons from reinforcing Augustgrad from the zerg. Raynor had been on Korhal two years ago in a raid that revealed Mengsk for the monster he was, and had been there a year prior when he'd helped save the civilian populace from the Queen of Blades's rampage. Now, a year later, men like Commander Raynor and Admiral Horner were serving the regime they'd once fought against, and the Queen of Blades was apparently on their side. And that wasn't even mentioning the protoss.

"Lieutenant Rosa Morales right?"

She nodded – it was too much. The universe had gone insane. She could remember a time when humanity thought it was the only intelligent species in the universe, when the galaxy had been theirs for the taking. She'd then seen the UEN reports on the destruction of the rogue terran colonies, she'd seen the UPL transform itself in the UED, she'd seen her family at Buenos Aires before she'd shipped out to "secure the future of humanity." Now, she'd never see them again.

But she could at least nod.

"Thought so. Where's your armour?"

"Off. Where's yours?"

"Maintenance."

She forced a smile – "do they actually maintain all the snake artwork you've got on it, or do you do that yourself?"

"Bit of both, actually."

"Right." She bit her lip – she had little idea how to talk with the man. He was easy-going…too easy-going, for her tastes. Still, she suspected that he wanted…what, exactly? Company? Not likely, considering how beloved he was, even outside the Raiders. If he wanted to keep that popularity, she doubted that talking with an "Earther" would help that reputation much.

"How's your friend?" she asked. "Doctor Stetmann?"

For a moment, Raynor's face darkened. A moment later, the light returned, but it was light that shone from a mask. "Fine," he said. "A bit crazy mind you. Less crazy than he was a few hours ago, but still more crazy than when I last saw him without the purple eyes."

"Violet."

"What?"

Morales felt like cursing herself, but with her foot already in her mouth, she could only press forward. "Violet. His eyes are violet. Not purple."

"Hmm…" Raynor spun the ball in his hands. A simple black and white soccer ball in a universe that was becoming less black and white all the time. "You still play soccer on Earth?"

"What?"

"Soccer." He nodded his head back towards the base. "Boys and girls are blowing off some steam, only I find you alone out here."

"I'm fine," she said.

"Are you?"

"I said I'm fine." She sighed. "And yes, I do know how to play soccer. I-"

Raynor tossed her the ball. She caught it.

"Goalie I take it?"

She scowled, and dropped the ball onto her foot. Right to left, left to right, she bounced it a few times before it finally hit the ground. The ground of a world 60,000 light years from the planet the game had originated from.

"Defender," she said.

"Pardon?"

"Defender. I was too slow for attack, I sucked at goalkeeping, so I played as a defender." She passed the ball to Raynor, who took it under his foot. "I see that soccer is one thing you kept from Earth."

"Actually we kept many things." Raynor began doing the same manoeuvre she did. Not as gracefully mind you. "And from what I've heard, took a lot more since the UED last showed up."

Morales remained silent as Raynor passed the ball back to her. His words were without malice, as were his eyes. She knew the score, knew that every faction in the Koprulu sector had salvaged what they could from the UED fleet, after it had been scattered to the astral winds after Char (DuGalle's vain attempt at retreat notwithstanding). So, fine, he wasn't trying to rub her the wrong way. What the heck _was_ he doing then?

"Didn't play too much soccer myself," he said. "I was more into rugby. Later years, it was demolition."

 _Demolition?_ Morales knew of the sport, and if Raynor had played it…well, "shit," of the "holy" kind. She passed the ball back to him.

"Anything other than soccer?"

"When you grow up in a mega city, sport opportunities are in short supply." The ball came back to her. "Think that's why soccer's called the world game. Because you can play it anywhere, with pretty much anything."

"Makes sense." Raynor accepted her pass, and began another attempt at juggling. "On Shiloh, ain't much company besides my folks, the wind, and the rain. So most time with the ball was with a wall."

"Should have taken up squash then."

"What?"

"Nothing." The ball fell, Morales accepted the pass back – apparently Earth's erstwhile children hadn't taken everything from Earth, or if they had, squash had faded in the centuries they'd been away. On the other hand, they'd invented sports like padball, so who was she to judge?

She juggled the ball again, even kneeing it to Raynor, who tried to knee it back, failed, and ran to pick up the ball. A farm boy, she reflected – that might explain a lot. Key word on "might," because having a farm on Earth was beyond the reach of the bulk of its citizenry. Earth imported most of its food from extra-solar colonies, while the billions upon billions of humans who called it home were concentrated in mega-cities. She knew that it had been much worse in the past, before the UPL had come to power. How in the centuries that had followed, as a human diaspora began, the planet had recovered somewhat. With most of Earth's people living in urban centres, the planet had a chance for nature to bounce back outside them. Of course, actually going to see those places was still a luxury, let alone farm them, but still, they existed. She'd even seen some of the old ruins of South America. Ruins that made her recall them every time she saw a nexus. She-

"Ow!"

The ball had hit her in the head again, and this time, it was no accident. Raynor, for his part, was smiling, albeit faintly. "What the hell?"

"Wondering where you'd gone?"

"I…" She trailed off. "Sir, am I obliged to stay here?"

"Huh?"

"Am I obliged to partake in soccer with you, or am I free to go?"

Raynor shrugged. "You're free to go."

"Good." She passed the ball back. "Thank you Sir."

She headed back to the base. She'd have to pass multiple people in the process, but if she could get to her bunk, she could get the rest she was looking for, and not have to worry about being hit in the head with a soccer ball. Instead, she could worry about getting hit in the head with other things. Things that would hit harder, and be more painful, and…

Actually, the barracks weren't looking like such a good idea. She turned around and made a gesture with her hands. Taking the hint, Raynor passed the ball back to her. She made a gesture for him to move back, and he did so. She passed the ball – fast and far, and he managed to stop it.

"Nice," she said. "Come on, pass it back."

He did so – his pass wasn't as good as hers, and she had to run for it, but she didn't begrudge him for his shoddy aim. If anything, she was enjoying this. Here, tens of thousands of light years from home, serving the Dominion, playing a game of soccer with a terran who could call her an "Earther…" All made possible by one simple black and white ball. In an ever-darkening universe, maybe she could take some comfort in that.

She passed the ball back, and smiled.

Maybe soccer really was a world game.

* * *

 _A/N_

 _Before you get any ideas:_

 _1) It's called "soccer," not "football" (of which there's at least seven types). Deal with it. :p_

 _2) Yes, I played soccer back in the day. I was a goalie first, and a defender second. I sucked as an attacker. Make of this what you will._


End file.
